


Can You Keep Him In The Dark For Life?

by frikey



Series: vamp!verse [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frikey/pseuds/frikey
Summary: In which Mikey finds out that his long-term boyfriend is a half-starved, nightmare harbinging bloodsucker.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ghoul_FunGhoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghoul_FunGhoul/gifts).



> This ficlet has been in the works for awhile now, and I'm so glad to have finally written it. Special thanks to [Cole](http://desolationrow.tumblr.com), [Zero](http://zombiedewees.tumblr.com), [Ace](http://vanpunks.tumblr.com), and [Marrissa](http://fangmouthiero.tumblr.com) for listening to my endless rambling about this 'verse, for helping me develop ideas, and for encouraging me to finally write it. Thank you to [Jordyn](http://twinkfrank.tumblr.com) and [Gi](http://vampyrefrnk.tumblr.com) for being the first two to read this and for encouraging me to post it, despite it being after 11pm. You all are truly the best, and I'm lucky to have you and your unwavering support in my ridiculous endeavors.  
> Don't worry, there's a lot more to come after this—I'm nowhere near done exhausting my plethora of ideas for this 'verse. Work title inspired by Mother by Danzig. Enjoy. xo

_"You're really, really beautiful," Mikey whispers as his head falls back against the couch, and he hears the boy between his legs chuckle. Mikey's brain is foggy, his vision blurred a bit, and the hand belonging to the girl next to him seems to have slipped out of his grip at some point. She's slumped over the arm of the couch, Mikey notices, looking so far away with her hair covering half her face and her eyes open, staring, unseeing._

_Mikey knows he should be panicking, should be fighting harder, but he can't seem to force himself into action. The mouth on his wrist has long since stopped causing him pain, and now all he feels down there is a faint pressure, and the sweet slide of liquid over his skin. His blood, probably._

_Mikey closes his eyes, tries to ignore the pounding in his head and the rapid pulse in his wrist as images flash across his eyelids. He remembers the terror in the girl's eyes, how she grabbed his sweaty hand and squeezed it in hers as she screamed. He remembers his only thought being something along the lines of,_ they're going to want me next _. He wasn't wrong._

_"Open your eyes, pretty boy," Says a voice, and Mikey feels a hand on his face, cupping his jaw, and when he opens his eyes, he has to resist the urge to scream. The boy's teeth are so close now. "Yeah, that's it. Look at me."_

_"Oh, fuck," Mikey mumbles as the boy shoves his head to the side and leans in close to his neck. When he feels the sting of the boy's fangs digging into his flesh again, he lets out a yelp. "Oh, fuck. I don't want to die." His voice is slurred._

 

"I don't want to die! I don't want to die, please—"

"Mikey, Mikey, hey, you're not gonna die. Open your eyes, sweetheart."

Mikey does. He sees Frank hovering over him, staring down at him with a look of concern on his face. Mikey can feel Frank's hands in his hair, combing the stray, sweaty strands away from his forehead.

"It was just a nightmare, baby. You're safe," Frank says softly, and Mikey nods his head in response, swallows around the lump in his throat. Frank lays down next to him again and pulls him close, and Mikey buries his face in Frank's neck.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No," Mikey says immediately, his voice muffled, but then he reconsiders. "I mean, I don't know. It was the same one I've been having for weeks now, you know? The one about the vampires. Killing me and that girl."

"Yeah, I know the one," Frank says quietly, pressing a kiss to Mikey's head, "Are you sure you don't know her? That you're not just dreaming about someone from the past, someone who got hurt or something?"

"No. I don't know her. I've never seen her before," Mikey laments, curling impossibly closer into Frank's side, "I'm fucking losing it, Frank. I'm going crazy."

"You're not losing it, Mikes. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation, okay? It's probably just all this stress you've been under lately, from work and all, and with your birthday coming up, and with worrying about getting Gerard here for the holidays. You need to stop worrying so much."

"That's easier said than done," Mikey whispers, and Frank starts to stroke his hair again.

"I know it is. But things will be okay, they'll work out," Frank reassures him, "Now, c'mon. Let's get you back to sleep."

*

"He keeps having these _nightmares_ , Brian," Frank moans, and Brian looks down at him over the rim of his coffee cup, eyebrows raised.

"Well," Brian starts, "With how pitiful you look, you'd think _you_ were the one having nightmares."

"Shut up," Frank snaps, then sighs, dragging his hands over his face, "I'm worried sick about him. I didn't know it was possible for a vampire to feel this fucking exhausted."

"Well, of course it is. You're stressed out, worried about your boy, worried about your _secret_ ," Brian emphasizes, "And you're not feeding enough."

"You know I can't risk him finding out," Frank counters, shooting Brian a look from across the table, and Brian holds up his hands in mock defeat.

"Fine, whatever. Tell me, what exactly are these nightmares about? Maybe I can help you figure something out."

"He says they're about vampires," Frank says, worry and fear coloring his voice, "That he's on a couch, in a house he's never been in before, and that there are vampires—one feeding on him. And there's a girl next to him, and she's already dead, but he remembers her holding his hand before she died because she was scared."

"Hmm," Brian hums, taking another sip of his coffee and tilting his head to the side, like he's thinking on it. "Sounds like he's subconsciously picking up on your hunger."

"What? Brian, c'mon. That's not even possible, and if this is your way of trying to get me to eat more often, forget it. You know I—"

"You're in love, aren't you?" Brian interrupts, one eyebrow making a mad dash for his hairline again.

"Well, yeah," Frank sputters, his face flushing, "I mean, of course. I can't see myself ever being with anyone else."

"You know what love means, Frank. It means a connection. It means that the freaky shit that happens to you, happens to your boy."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Frank laments, rubbing at his temples and scrubbing at his face again, like he wants to tear his skin off, see if the answers are hidden underneath it.

"Of course it does," Brian argues. He reaches over and taps Frank on the skull, once, twice, three times. "Use your brain, dumbass. It's one of the many unspoken laws of the land. It's why vampires are never supposed to fall in love, _especially_ not with humans. Love makes us _weak_ , _vulnerable_. But it looks like there's no hope for you now." Brian grins, showing off his teeth, and Frank smacks his hand away.

"Shut the fuck up. You're telling me you're not in love with that cute tattooed guy who's been hanging off your arm for months now?"

"Getting there," Brian shrugs, "But this isn't about me. This is about you. Love means _connection_ ," He repeats, holding Frank's gaze, "Mikey's subconscious is picking up on your hunger, and because it can't rationalize it, it's manifesting it as this nightmare. That's what's been plaguing him."

"So how do I fix it?"

"You tell him the truth," Brian says simply, and Frank chokes on his coffee.

"You can't be serious," Frank argues, but one look at Brian's face tells Frank he's dead serious. Serious as a heart attack. "I can't—how am I supposed to do that, Brian?"

"You just confess it to him, Frank. You've been together for awhile now, it's time to stop hiding it. The boy's _in love_ with you, there's a good chance he's not going to run when he's already got so much invested in you."

"Yeah, but—but humans aren't equipped to _deal_ with this."

"You'd be damn surprised at what humans are equipped to deal with, Frank," Brian says with a roll of his eyes, but he reaches across the table and pats Frank's hand affectionately before he slides his chair back and stands up. "Come on. We're gonna be late for work if we don't leave now."

* 

"Hey!" Mikey calls from the kitchen as he hears Frank opening the front door of their apartment, "You're home early today."

"Yeah, our last appointment never showed," Frank says as he appears in the kitchen, dropping his keys on the counter and reaching down to untie his shoes.

"How was work? You know, other than your last client bailing," Mikey asks as he leans over to put something in the oven, "I hope frozen pizza's okay for dinner. I know it's not much, but I didn't have any other ideas, and well—" He pauses to grin up at Frank, "It's not like we have much else to eat in here. We really need to go to the fuckin' grocery store."

"Yeah, that's fine," Frank says around the knot in his throat. He stands, frozen, drinking in this moment of complete domesticity. He's terrified that in a few minutes, this won't be his anymore. That he'll never have this again, and so he cherishes it.

"What's wrong?" Mikey asks, and his voice snaps Frank out of his reverie. He pulls his eyes away from where they'd been glued to an obscure spot on the kitchen counter and looks over at Mikey instead, standing there with his dark hair all over the place, wearing a faded, ink-stained Iron Maiden t-shirt, his bare toes curling against the floor, his fingers tapping out an absentminded rhythm on the faded countertop. He's the most beautiful thing Frank's ever seen, and Frank's seen a lot in his forty-one years.

"Um," Frank starts, clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away from Mikey, choosing to stare at the floor instead, "I—we need to talk, Mikes."

"Oh," Mikey says quietly, and Frank's metaphorical heart constricts, "Okay. About what? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, things are—things are fine."

"So what's wrong, then? What do we need to talk about?" Mikey's voice breaks on the last word and Frank looks up at him again, sees him shaking his head and gripping the counter so hard his knuckles are turning white.

"It's just—there's something I need to tell you. I've been—I've been keeping secrets, Mikey, and I think it's time to finally tell you the truth."

The bitter laugh that creeps out of Mikey's mouth is not at all what Frank is expecting, and he's surprised to see tears welling up in Mikey's eyes. "What the fuck, Frank? Are you—what the _fuck_? What could you have possibly kept from me for eleven months?"

"I'm afraid you're not going to believe me," Frank says wretchedly, like the thought is causing him physical pain, "You're going to think I'm crazy, and you're going to be scared, and I guess you'll have every right to be, but—"

"You're scaring me right _now_ , Frank! Just spit it out! Stop dancing around the subject and tell me!"

Frank hesitates, and the ensuing silence stretches on long and heavy. Mikey's staring across the kitchen at him, fingers still wrapped vicelike around the countertop. When Frank finally speaks, the words sound cheap and foreign to his own ears.

"I'm a vampire."

Mikey freezes. He stares at Frank, takes note of how Frank's chest is rising and falling, his brain rapidly combing back through the months he and Frank have been together, noting the normalcy—and the weirdness. But that's—

"That's impossible," Mikey laughs, stunned, and he shakes his head as if to clear it, "That's—that's fucking _impossible_ , Frank. Just tell me what's really going on, I promise I won't—"

"I'm telling you the truth, Mikey."

"But—but you're _breathing_! You're breathing right now, I can see you!"

"Yeah, because I'm used to it. It's just muscle memory, Mikes. I don't have to breathe," Frank says carefully as he takes a step forward, and Mikey surprises himself by not stepping back. By not running the hell away. "And those nightmares you've been having? They're because of me, because of this connection we have. You're—you're subconsciously picking up on my hunger. I haven't been feeding properly because I was always scared you would leave if you found out, and so I—I never bring blood home with me. I don't have constant access to it, and because your brain can't rationalize what's happening, it's manifesting it as a nightmare."

"That's fucking crazy. _This_ is crazy," Mikey states with another shake of his head.

"I know what it sounds like, but I can prove it," Frank continues, "I don't have a heartbeat, for starters. You can see for yourself." He reaches out and takes Mikey's hand, carefully, and places it flat against his chest. Mikey leaves it there, fingers pressed into the fabric of Frank's t-shirt, and he waits. He waits for the telltale pulse of Frank's heart, but it never comes. He stands there for what feels like an hour, waiting, feeling, mind whirling, but _it never comes_.

"Oh, god," Mikey says quietly, hand still planted firmly against Frank's chest, "You _are_ telling the truth."

"Yeah, I am. I would never lie to you, baby," Frank says softly, and Mikey looks at him, sees the quiet fear in his expression. There's another stretch of silence, and Frank can feel Mikey's pulse radiating through his fingertips, can feel it throbbing against his chest, and something wells up inside him, something soft and sweet and protective.

"Do you have fangs?" Mikey asks abruptly, out of raw, genuine, _morbid_ curiosity, and Frank lets out a short laugh.

"Yeah, but—"

"Show me," Mikey interrupts, cocking his head to the side, and Frank stares at him in disbelief.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, sweetheart. You need time to process this, I don't—"

"Show me. I can handle it."

Frank lets out a sigh and then squeezes his eyes shut, parting his lips a moment later. Mikey watches as two, long, sharp teeth seem to unfurl from Frank's mouth, seem to appear out of fucking _nowhere_ , and Mikey knows he should be scared. He should be fucking terrified, he should be running from the room screaming, but he's not. He's mesmerized.

"Holy shit," Mikey whispers, reaching forward before he can stop himself, his finger delicately tracing the curve of one of the fangs. "That explains why you would never bite me during sex."

Frank bats Mikey's hand away and stares up at him in surprise, eyebrows raised. Mikey stares back with the faintest expression of amusement on his face.

"Really?" Frank asks, giving his head a small shake and letting out a little laugh, "You just found out your long-term boyfriend is a fucking _vampire_ , a half-starved, nightmare harbinging _bloodsucker_ , and you're not _freaking out_? You're just thinking that your sex life makes a little more sense now?"

"Well, yeah. Would you rather I freak out?"

"No, I mean—I don't know. I just wasn't expecting you to be _so_ —I don't know, _cool_ with it? I'm kind of a monster."

"No," Mikey says softly, "You're _Frank_. The guy who rescues stray dogs and makes my coffee in the mornings and nearly burns the house down everytime you so much as look in the general direction of the stove."

"What if I kill people?"

Mikey lets out an undignified snort in response. "Yeah, right. You, the guy who can't even kill a fly because _what if it has a family, Mikes?_ —killing someone? You would rather die yourself."

Frank just stares, letting the silence drag on for a long while, because he can't find the words to accurately depict what he's feeling. This is not at all the reaction he was expecting.

"Look," Mikey says quietly, reaching up and cupping Frank's neck, running his thumb along Frank's cheek, "If you were expecting me to be scared of you, then you obviously don't know me very well. Am I surprised? Fuck _yeah_ , I mean, I didn't even know this was _possible_ . But am I scared? No. I could never be scared of you. I trust you. I _love_ you."

"I love you too," Frank says around the knot in his throat, because it's all he can really say. Coherent words seem to have fled his vocabulary for the time being. Thankfully, he doesn't have to try to think of another response, because the conversation is interrupted by the loud beeping of the oven timer.

"Come on, let's eat before the pizza gets cold," Mikey says, leaning forward to kiss Frank's temple. Frank stands still for another moment, feet seemingly glued to the floor. He's still kind of in shock.

"And we really need to make a trip to the grocery store tomorrow," Mikey's saying as he pulls the pizza out of the oven, "Because _jeez_ , we have nothing edible left in this place."

Frank cracks up then, looking at Mikey from across the counter, and Mikey starts laughing too, and before he knows it, Frank has closed the distance between them, has backed Mikey up against the counter and is kissing the life out of him.

"You're fucking—you're fucking _ridiculous_. Truly the best thing to ever come into my life," Frank says, grinning against Mikey's lips, and Mikey blushes.

"Shut up, Count Dracula. Do you want pepperoni or sausage?"

"Pepperoni," Frank answers as Mikey goes to get the plates, "And for the love of god, do _not_ call me that."

"Alright. How about Nosferatu?" Mikey asks, smirk twisted beautifully on his lips, and Frank groans.

"I hate you. So much."

Mikey just grins.


End file.
